


Bound To You

by AnotherWriterWhoWrites



Series: 2021 365 Days of Writing [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester In Love, Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester in Love, Fix-It, Hand Jobs, M/M, No Gadreel (Supernatural), Quote: Sam and Dean Winchester are psychotically irrationally erotically codependent on each other, Season 9 fix it, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:54:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28498623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherWriterWhoWrites/pseuds/AnotherWriterWhoWrites
Summary: Desperate to do anything to save his brother's life after discontinuing the trials Dean performs a spell that binds Sam to his own body and soul, without realizing that there are no secrets between the two of them now.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: 2021 365 Days of Writing [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2087547
Comments: 9
Kudos: 109
Collections: 2020 Supernatural & CWRPF Holiday Exchange





	Bound To You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zubeneschamali](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zubeneschamali/gifts).



When Sam had first woken up, the biggest surprise was that he did, in fact, wake up. In his own bed too. 

He tried to think back to the last thing he could remember. The burning light of the Trials coursing through him. The crackling sounds that could only be his bones breaking, ribs being thrust open from the heat that was inside of him. Cranial fluid evaporating and every single last part of him on the edge of destruction.

But then… He woke up.

Except… Not really.

He was awake, that wasn’t the question. He slowly sat up and moved, looking down at his hands and arms that he distinctly remembered had been glowing with the Grace and Power of Heaven. 

There was nothing there now, just his arms. A little thinner than what was normal but still muscular, still his, still normal looking. 

Not burned, not burning, whole and complete.

In fact, his whole body felt better than it had in… In ages. Even before doing the Trials, during his time with Amelia, his body hadn’t been anywhere near perfect condition. He still went to bed in pain most nights and  _ after _ starting the Trials?

Pain killers had become a staple in his routine. And even then there were times that he hadn’t been able to sleep. Wouldn’t be able to move, to get out of bed. Sometimes, even just breathing hurt. 

But now… Now, it felt… Different. Better in a way that he hadn’t felt in a long time. As if every breath he took was labored down, no longer feeling like if he breathed too deeply, he’d break. Even his heart was-

His heart was skipping a beat. 

He blinked and then frowned, bringing his hand up to touch his chest. His arm actually did feel a bit strange, now that he focused on it, a bit heavier to bring up. It took him a moment but then he focused on his heartbeat and tried to listen. 

His heart rate had always been steady, perfectly regular. Lately, it had been a bit rough, a bit strained, but it had never skipped a beat like it was doing right now. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe in deeply, snapping them open when he realized that he couldn’t. 

He was breathing, it was even and level. His chest was expanding and decompressing with each inhale and exhale, respectively. He could feel the air, could smell it with the slight hint of what could only be chicken soup.

Except… He shouldn’t be able to smell that either. His room was far away enough from the kitchen, as all the bedrooms were, that neither noises or smells would travel. 

He tried to take another deep breath.

His breathing remained even. In, out- inhale, exhale. 

He looked down at his hands again. They were steady, certain. Everything about him was steady, stable, firm. 

Too steady. Too stable. Too firm.

He threw the covers back and moved to get out of the bed, feeling like… Like there was something different. 

Something wrong. 

Swallowing hard, he looked himself over again to ensure himself that he was, in fact, himself. He brought his hands up to touch his face, pulling on his hair slightly. Standing up, he shook for a moment, legs bending slightly as he tried to walk forward.

He didn’t make it that far before his door opened. He looked up and was immediately met with a bone deep relief that made him sag slightly as his brother came over to him and wrapped his arms around him tightly. 

“Thank god, Sammy.” he whispered, one hand cupping the back of his head. “You’re okay.”

Sam hugged back instinctively, relishing the warmth from his brother, even with the slight chill that seemed to cling to him for some reason, as well as feeling as if Dean had lost weight but when he pulled back to look at him, he looked the same. 

“Dean…” Sam said slowly, realizing that something was deeply, deeply wrong. “What did you do?”

* * *

It was a spell Dean explained over lunch, or dinner or whatever meal it was. It was hot and it was good and he could eat it without throwing up.

That is, he could eat it without throwing up because Dean was eating it without throwing up.

Sam had been dying, back at the church. He hadn’t been wrong, he had been burning from the inside out. Dean had carried him out of the church, collapsed right next to the impala, and in the end, all he could do was bring Sam to the closest hospital and hope that the doctors didn’t ask too many questions. 

But even then, there was nothing that could be done. The Trials had done their part, had anointed him and baptised him in fire, because what other way for a Winchester to be purified than with fire? As a result, his insides were burnt along with everything else that could be. The fact that he had lasted as long as he did was nothing short of a miracle. 

But they didn’t have a second miracle and Sam had been fading fast. 

So, Dean had called Kevin back at the bunker, barely able to console the kid to focus on the task at hand. Apparently, whatever had happened before with the meteor shower- the Angels falling, Dean had told him- had put the bunker on lockdown, making it impossible to get out.

But the call had managed to get through and Dean had put Kevin to work immediately, barely even taking the time to explain everything else because nothing else was important. 

_ Just find a way to save Sam _ , Dean had told him.  _ And hurry. _

So, Kevin dove deep into the books and even the Angel Tablet, trying to find something as fast as he could, with Sam's health declining by the minute and the doctors gently urging Dean to be ready to let him go, perhaps get last rites or for him to see a grief counselor.

Dean had ignored them all, just staying beside his brother, thin hand clasped between two of his own, as he desperately waited for Kevin to call with something, anything. 

And when Dean had been serious enough to start to contemplate some other sort of supernatural method, like praying to the angels for help or, Impala forbid, a demon to work out a deal with- he did, after all, have Crowley stashed in his trunk, Kevin had called him. 

It was dangerous, it was ludicrous, it was the single most dim-witted possible thing that could be done in this kind of situation. 

It sounded exactly like the Winchester way. 

It was a bond, a soul bond and a physical bond, only to be done at the very last possible minute when there was no other way. It took two people and essentially bound one to the other in the most intimate of ways. 

Sam was dying, his body no longer able to house his soul anymore, due to the severance of the connection between the two. It was what allowed the reaper to be able to take the soul to the afterlife. 

Unless there was something to anchor the soul to Earth and give it a new connection. Bind the body to some other living thing so that it could have something else to copy and repeat until it could heal enough to properly house its own soul again. 

And there was no other living being that Dean would trust with Sam's very soul and body than himself. No one else would keep him as safe, would be as willing to do so.

So, in the end, Sam's soul was bonded to Dean's soul, the new anchor that kept him on Earth and prevented any reaper, though Dean thought that maybe he had heard Death himself whispering in his ear, from taking Sam's soul away. 

And his body was bound to Dean's body, copying the internal motions that Dean did. 

Sam tried to breathe in deeply again, and couldn’t. 

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Sam copied him, unable to resist it. When Dean held his breath, so did Sam. When Dean chewed on the inside of his cheek, still holding his breath, Sam felt the echo of teeth against skin, prodding his own tongue at the side of his cheek as if he could feel the ghost of the indents on them. 

Dean breathed out and so did Sam; he- they- had started feeling lightheaded from not breathing. 

“So, basically, what my body does, you’re gonna copy,” Dean told him. “So I’m breathing for two, heart beating for two." He gestured to the food that was getting cold. “And technically, eating for two.”

Because Sam's body by itself couldn't digest anything. 

He took a piece of bread and dipped it into the soup, biting into it. He couldn’t taste it. He couldn’t even feel that it was in his mouth. When he tried to swallow, he couldn’t, like there was some sort of force not letting it past his throat. He gagged and coughed the bread into his hand, putting it in his napkin. 

Dean did the same, grabbed the bread and dunked it into the soup, biting into it. Sam could feel a hint of the wetness hitting his, their, chin. Could feel the taste like an aftertaste, could feel the slight warmth of the soup. He moved quickly to do the same, Dean waiting to move or swallow, and this time he could taste the bread clear as anything, could feel the soup traveling down his throat, into his stomach. 

“How the hell are we going to live like this?” Sam asked, looking up at his brother. “What else is going to happen?”

Dean looked uncomfortable, unable to look at Sam's eyes. “I don’t know.” he admitted. “But whatever it is, it's better than the alternative.”

“Is it?” Sam couldn’t help but ask. Usually, at this point, his hands would start to shake or his breathing would become ragged. This time nothing happened. “Or are you just saying that because you’re not the one that’s hooked up to your brother like a makeshift puppet?”

“You can still move around and do whatever you want Sam," Dean told him. “I’m just gonna be the one that keeps your body alive and functioning.”

“And what if I wanted to die?” Sam prodded, stopping when he felt his- their- hearts beating faster. His hand came up to touch his chest again, feeling the irregular beat. “Is that you?”

Dean grimaced, hand swiping over his mouth as he looked away. “Yeah.” he muttered. “It's me.”

Sam kept his hand on his chest, feeling the heartbeat slowly start to normalize, but still with that same skipped beat. “Why is your heart skipping like this?”

“Been like that for years.” Dean said with a shrug. “Way before Hell even, can’t remember why but I’m used to it.”

“Should get it checked out.” he muttered, looking over at the food again. Their stomachs growled and Dean immediately picked his spoon up, slowly eating the soup, pausing to let Sam do the same and copy his movements. 

They ate in silence, simultaneously in every motion. It was maddening to Sam, he kept expecting his fingers to start twitching, tapping against the table or the side of his chair like he liked to do, but they laid there flat on the table instead, curled around the spoon unmovingly. 

Where did this end? He could move around, like he had gotten out of bed before, and he could stop eating despite Dean continuing. 

He tried to do so, stopped eating despite his brother doing so, Dean raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t say anything, swallowing his mouthful. 

He could still feel the echo of the warmth of the soup, thick and filling, slide down his throat and into his stomach. Only he could also feel the slight pain of not actually having anything there, his body was digesting food that wasn’t really there. 

He picked up his spoon again and started to eat, copying his brother.

Once they were done Sam pushed the bowl away from him, Dean didn’t, all he did was lean back. But it was something they didn’t do in unison, that meant that he could in fact move without Dean dictating him how to.

Except that...he could feel the back of the chair that Dean was sitting in, while his own back was away from the seat. His spine curved as if he was accommodating the chair and he scowled, looking up at his brother. 

“Show me the spell.” he demanded. 

* * *

It hadn’t been a lie, it was the single most brainless thing he had ever seen and he had a feeling he’d never see something as stupidly foolish at this. 

It made him wish that Bobby was still around to just...smack them on the head sometimes. At least then they’d admit that what they were doing was pure, plain, Winchester stupidity. 

He sat down to start reading the half notes and translations from the papers Kevin had left. It was a mess of writings and scribblings, most of which he couldn’t really make out. 

He settled in for a long night and pulled a fresh piece of paper to him, snagging a pen as well as he got to work.

He was starting to get light headed, enough that his vision was starting to dim. 

He rubbed at his eyes and tried to focus on the rest of the translation, sounding out the words inside of his head to try to figure them out despite how they were starting to swim across the pages. 

He stopped and put the papers down, rubbing at his eyes once more and squinting at the words. A heat curled around his cheeks and his limbs started to feel heavy, heavier, than before as if he was-

Sam's eyes widened and he quickly got up, pushing the chair back with the force of his sudden movement. He moved as fast as he could, wanting to see if his hypothesis was true. 

He skidded slightly, bringing his arms up to block himself as he almost ran into the wall, feet stumbling as he tried to remain upright before he finally found his brother, sitting on the kitchen floor with at least three, that he could see, empty bottles of beer around him and a fourth in his hand. 

Dean jumped slightly and whirled around to face him, standing up a bit unstably. Sam closed his eyes as he felt the world spin around him for a moment and then reopened them to glare at his brother. 

“I’m getting drunk.” he accused him, watching the surprise and then slight guilt flash over Dean's face. His words were slurred slightly, he couldn’t remember the last time he had actually been drunk. “And I’m trying to do work.”

“So what, I can’t drink now that we’re like this?” Dean complained, despite quickly going to the cabinet and pulling out a loaf of bread. He ripped pieces off and started to eat them, Sam's mouth filled with saliva and his throat constricted as if he was swallowing them. Dean went to him and gave him a slice, letting the both of them eat in time. “Next thing you’ll tell me is no more sex.”

“And how exactly do you think sex is going to work like this?” Sam demanded, trying to swallow and gagging, waiting for Dean to swallow so he could do it. “It was bad enough that I had to listen when I was a teenager, I’m not going to be feeling it like a ghost.”

“Oh it wasn’t that bad when you were a teen.” Dean waved his concerns away. “I always made sure you were asleep.”

Sam just threw him a dry look. “And yet I still get half a boner whenever I hear the words, ‘Don’t worry, he’s asleep,’” he mimicked, throwing the rest of the bread in his hand at Deans head. 

Dean rolled his eyes but tossed his remainder onto the counter. “Fine, you sobering up there Mother Theresa?”

Sam wondered for a moment if he punched Dean, would he feel it too and was weighing the cons and pros regarding both. 

“I’ve been reading more about the spell.” he said instead. “And I’m gonna be honest Dean, we’re lucky it worked at all. You had two of the five ingredients, you used an EKG instead of a neurotransmitter, and even one of those ingredients expired last year.” he shook his head. “This never should’ve worked.”

“Ah but it did.” Dean said wagging his finger and slowly collecting the empty beer bottles, throwing them over his shoulder and straight into the trash can. “And your welcome.”

Sam just stared at him. “We didn’t finish talking about that,” he told him. “About me being okay with it.”

Their hearts started to beat faster once more, it seemed to be a natural reaction for Dean at this point when bringing something like this up. 

“No, we’re done.” Dean told him. “Because you agreed to stop the Trials and I saved your life so that means, we’re done talking about it.”

“No we’re not.” Sam said, turning so that he could watch Dean. Their palms were starting to sweat and twitch. “Dean.”

“I don’t give a damn Sam. I meant what I said in that church.” Dean said, not looking at him. “I don’t give a single damn if it means all the Hells gates are cracked open, I don’t care if everyone in the world is possessed right now. I don’t care. Because if it means having you dead?” he could feel the tremor pass through Deans body, slight but there, no external hint of it. “Then I’d let it all burn.”

Without waiting for Sam to say anything else to that, what could he even possibly say, Dean left the room, leaving Sam behind with a heart that was beating too fast in their chest and the taste of bread in their mouth.

* * *

They managed, somehow and barely. Sam kept trying to figure out the rest of the spell and all that it entailed while Dean kept the both of them alive. Three times a day they ate together, they didn’t have any other choice really since it had to be in time, and on the second day Sam had put his foot down and demanded that Dean add vegetables as well to their meals.

He could only stomach, figuratively, so much meat and soups, even those had meat in them of some kind; at times more like a mild chilli than soup. 

Dean quit drinking completely for the time being, complaining about it all the while but Sam also felt how their upper right abdomen was starting to feel a bit better and not so pinched all the time. 

It was those little bits and pieces of them that he had to get used to and to be honest, Sam missed his own small parts. He missed having his own heartbeat, being in control of his own breathing. Even when he tried to do yoga or some sort of exercise he couldn’t actually feel as if he was doing anything and nothing ached pleasantly like it was supposed to after doing so. 

But he felt it when Dean pulled a Charley horse in the middle of the night, his lower leg locked in pain as he desperately tried to massage it out to no avail until Dean managed to relax and do something about it. 

He didn’t miss feeling so cold all the time though, that was something that constantly lingered, especially after his memories from Hell came back full throttle, so there were some benefits to this he supposed. Not to mention the scratchy and almost painful feeling in his throat whenever he spoke too loudly or raised his voice.

He did miss, however, being able to use the bathroom on his own time. That was a conversation that neither of them were willing to have or even entertain. 

“How long are we going to be like this?” Sam asked the night that Dean got a migraine that he refused to do anything about. He flinched back and turned the rest of the lights on, letting the light from their computer screens show the way in the room instead. “And for the love of god take something already.”

“We’re gonna be like this until your body heals or we find a spell to heal your body.” Dean told him, grumbling and internally flinching as he got up and went to the first aid kit they kept in every room. He dry swallowed two painkillers, Sam's tongue curled at the chalky taste they left behind. “Until then just deal.”

They started to leave the bunker a bit more, get back into the world. It was nice to walk around and feel the sun, or rather have Dean feel the sun in the leather jacket he refused to take off and thereby making the both of them sweat, and just breathe in the fresh air.

He noted that whenever Dean breathed in a bit too deep there almost seemed to be some sort of pain in their left side and he made a mental note to check on that once things were back to normal. 

There were a lot of things he had to check on his brother once they were back to the way they were, too many small medical issues that couldn’t and shouldn’t be ignored like the way that he’s been doing. 

Or maybe he should bring it up while they were connected like this, guilt trip him into actually doing something about it if it meant that it was causing him pain. 

In an attempt to get back into the swing of things, Dean found them a run of the mill hunt, textbook case of a ghost lingering in their old house refusing to move on. They donned their suits and went to work. When it was time for lunch Sam went to the register himself and ordered two extra large salads, adding as many free addons as possible and keeping it to a simple olive oil and lemon dressing. 

The look on Dean's face was downright murderous when Sam brought it to him, complete with a whey protein smoothie. He just smirked at him and sat down, waiting for Dean to take the first bite. 

“Already paid for.” he said when Dean glanced at the register. “And they don’t take back food.”

Dean's upper lip curled in disgust as he picked up his fork and stabbed the lettuce, Sam forked some as well, watching as Dean slowly brought it up to his mouth. Smiling Sam ate along with Dean, feeling the anger and the hatred in each bite as Dean masticated every bite furiously until the salad was gone and the smoothie was drunk. 

And later on when their stomachs were cramping in pain Dean smirked right back at him. 

“Your stomach is so messed up that a little bit of salad did this?” Sam demanded, resisting the urge to throw something at him, he still had no idea if it would do something to him as well. “I’m putting you on a cleanse.”

“My liver is cleanse enough for my body, now let's burn this sucker.” Dean said, tossing the salt canister to him.

* * *

It turned out that it wasn’t just a ghost haunting its old house. It was two ghosts in one, twins that refused to move on. Twins that no one had realized were there, with their bodies hidden in the floorboards, their bones so intertwined with one another's that Sam couldn’t tell where one sibling started and the other ended. 

They were both used to being thrown around by ghosts, used to the bone chilling cold that seeped into them when the ghosts would try to grab them, they had iron in their jacket for that exact reason, to grab it and use against the ghosts. 

Sam had been trying to figure out this part of them for a while now, had tried to see if it actually meant something between this bond of theirs. He just wasn’t willing to hurt Dean to find out if it was the truth. 

So when the ghost had grabbed Dean and threw him against the rotting wooden staircase, breaking the banister as Sam had been trying to break open the floorboards to get to the bodies, Sam was the one that shouted in sudden pain as he fell to his side, feeling the broken pieces of the staircase digging into his side as the whole back of his body erupted in pain. 

Gritting his teeth he forced himself up, standing on shaking legs. He could feel their teeth tightly clenched together and the way their legs shook unsteadily. He looked at his brother, already feeling the bruise that was going to bother them for the next few days at least. 

“Sam! Finish it!” Dean shouted at him, grabbing the shotgun and shooting at one of the twins that materialized in front of him. “Now!”

Sam turned back to his task at hand, reaching out and pulling the rest of the boards away to give him enough room to work. He grabbed at the salt and gas, pouring both in liberally as he reached into his pocket to grab his lighter. 

Before blood shot out of his mouth and he fell to his knees, sharp and overwhelming pain in his side. 

He didn’t bother to look down at himself, he turned as best as he could to look at his brother. 

Who had a steel beam in his lower side, the shotgun thrown to the ground, with one of the ghosts holding him down onto the ground as the other raised another beam. 

Sam acted on instinct, grabbing the lighter and flicking it open and lit with his wrist before throwing it into the bones, watching with intense satisfaction as the ghost lit up in flames, screaming as the beam fell helplessly to the ground and Dean was let go.

His vision was blackening over and he tried to fight it, stumbling as he slowly stood up. His hand went to his side, pressing against the open wound there. He could feel their stomach lurch and contract, almost throwing up from the pain. His eyes clouded over slightly as he finally reached his brother, reaching out to hold his hand out to him to help him stand up.

When Dean stood up it must’ve agitated the wound because a fresh wave of pain went over him and he, they, couldn’t breathe for a moment. He could feel Dean grit his teeth in an echo and could practically feel his brother pushing back against the darkness that threatened to consume them. 

Sam pulled his jacket off and bundled it up, pressing it against the wound on Dean's side, he could feel the same sensation on his own side and pressed harder. He wrapped an arm around Deans shoulder to help guide him out of the house and back to the impala. “C’mon, let's just get to the motel.” he mumbled. 

* * *

It was a hassle and a half to not only get to the impala, but get out and into the room with the both of them remaining conscious. Each movement reminded the both of them how badly wounded they were, as well as every dip and pothole they felt on the road was another sharp blast of pain. 

“We can’t do this again.” Sam managed to get out, gripping the steering wheel tightly as Dean took care not to bleed on the seats. “We can’t hunt anymore while we’re like this. It's too risky.”

“Could figure it out, or you could move fast enough so that the ghost doesn’t get one over on me.” Dean gritted out, shifting the jacket, he was going to have to throw it out at this point, to a drier area to press against him. “Sure were taking your time there Sammy.”

“Bite me.” Sam quipped at him, not even in the slightest mood to deal with this. He parked haphazardly and got out of the car, vision swimming once more as he tried to move his legs fast enough to get to his brother's side. 

Dean was telling him something but by the tone of his voice Sam could already tell that he was complaining about nothing important, it also meant that he was going to be okay as well as the fact that the pain was already fading to the back of their mind at this point. They carried one another to the motel room and Sam carefully placed him on the bed closest to the door before grabbing the first aid kit from their bag.

“What? No antiseptic? No pain killer?” Dean asked, nodding meaningfully at the bottle of whiskey in the bag right next to the first aid kit. 

“I’m already dealing with blood loss and an extra pocket in my side.” Sam told him as he threaded the needle and grabbed the lighter, watching the metal heat up. “You want to add alcohol to that?”

“We’ve done it worse.” Dean reminded him. “We’ve done it in a lot worse conditions.”

“Doesn’t make it any better, now shut up.” Sam said as he knelt down and took a deep breath. He paused for a moment, grabbing a roll of gauze and shoving it between his teeth, he could see a long piece of something, wooden or silver or made of jello he wasn’t sure, but it was in there and had to be removed. He didn’t let himself think, just reached in and yanked it out, the both of them locking up at the pain. 

Forcing himself to stay focused, he started to sow up the mess, it was thick and deep enough to cause severe blood loss but thin enough that he could use regular stitches to cover it up. It laid over Deans side down to his inner thigh, ripping his jeans. 

“What the hell, she couldn’t buy you dinner first?” Sam couldn’t help but mutter as he stood up and tugged. “You gotta get these off.”

Dean raised an eyebrow at him, smirking suggestively. “Aww Sammy, you know I’d always put out for you.”

If it didn’t mean hurting himself further, and now they had proof that it did, Sam would’ve hit him. 

“Unless you want to do it yourself, get your pants off.” he said unamused. “Or I’m going to go take a shower and go to bed.”

Dean rolled his eyes, grumbling as he shifted enough on the bed so that he didn’t have to stand up to shove his jeans down. “Fine, fine. Have at it.”

Sam shook his head as he knelt down once more, rummaging through the first aid kit to grab the alcohol pads and bandages. He squinted at the wound once more before shaking his head, he didn’t need stitches after all, it was just a lot of blood but not deep at all around his thigh. 

“This is gonna sting.” Sam warned him as he cleaned the wound, uncaring of how he had to turn his wrist to do so. He could feel the sting in his own thigh, feeling where the wound was deepest. He moved his hand slightly closer to the inside of Deans thigh, knowing that there was another part-

He could feel blood slowly pulsating between his legs. 

Sam paused for a moment, freezing really, before restarting, keeping one hand pressed to the wound as he rummaged for bandages. He could feel the heat coursing from Deans thigh, and he could feel how the blood was steadily making its way downward. 

There was no way to ignore it, all he could do was just not mention it and focus on patching his brother up. 

His hands were shaking, he noted, staring at the slightly quivering fingers. He pressed the bandages and gauze to the wound, carefully wrapping it.

He quickly did the rest of Dean's side, it was a bit challenging because both his hands and body were shaking now, a miniscule hint of the tremors, and then hesitated, not wrapped his hand around the inside of Dean's thigh once more. 

“Sammy?” He could hear his brother say slowly. “What’re you doing?”

This could just be a physical reaction, Dean was a sexual creature and he hadn’t really been with anyone in ages. With helping him deal with the Trials and now taking Sam's request rather seriously, he was pent up. And judging by the way he could feel his own cock twitch he knew that Dean hadn’t been taking care of himself alone either. 

Except...his hand was still moving. 

And he’s not going to lie.

It's been a while for him too.

He was shaking, a corner of his mind told him, he was shaking and his heart was beating faster, almost as if it was about to leap out of his chest. 

His hand moved until he could slide it past his boxers, stopping just above his pelvis region. He could feel all those sensations, could feel the sensation of skin on skin, the heat of someone elses touch. 

He just wished that he could feel it himself too.

He looked up, Dean was staring down at him with wide, blown eyes, lips parted slightly. Hunger gripped him so tight that he could barely breathe and he moved his hand down further, finally gripping Deans cock. 

He wasn’t sure who moaned first, him or Dean, but the sensation felt amazing, deep warmth spreading through his lower back and tailbone. He reached out and tugged Deans boxers off completely, his own lips parted at the sight of his brother's cock, hand moving slowly over the heated flesh. 

He couldn’t really feel it in his hand, but it felt like there was a hand around his own cock. He paused his movements long enough to pull his own jeans and boxers down, stroking Dean; and feeling like he was doing it through layers and layers of clothes, when Dean reached down and wrapped his own hand around Sam's cock, looking up at him questioningly. 

Sam shook his head, he could feel it in his hand, could properly feel like there was a cock in his hand, but the only part he felt was when he moved his hand over Dean's cock and not when Dean moved his hand. 

Didn’t matter, apparently this bond made him bleed when Dean did, he was sure that he would come when Dean did as well.

He moved to sit on Dean's lap, getting a bit more comfortable for the both of them, hands moving together, he could tell from Dean's arm movement, and when he felt the crushing sensation of pure something coursing through him, he looked up to see Dean staring at him so adoringly.

Sam couldn’t help it, he leaned in and kissed him. It felt like he was kissing him through a pillow, and could feel something on his lips that he realistically knew was his own, but it didn’t matter.

Nothing else mattered, just this.

He could feel Dean getting close, could feel the way his legs were starting to shake, as his orgasm neared. Their whole body tensed for a single moment and then with a mutual one groan the pleasure spiked, spreading through them like thick molasses as they tried to ride it out, hands still moving. 

He had enough of a mind to not fall onto his brother, turning so that he could fall onto his side on the bed instead, wiping his hand on the sheets before doing the same to the rest of him. He curled in closer to his brothers side, listening to their breathing even out together.

“You ever thought about doing this? Before I mean?” Dean asked him, voice already sounding like he was seconds away from falling asleep.

Sam curled in closer to him, enjoying how the warmth and feel spread through him, he was a tactile creature too. Thinking for a moment he finally truthfully said, “No, not really. Not until now.”

“Not until now?” Dean sounded slightly more awake. 

Sam shook his head, despite knowing that Dean wouldn’t see him in the dark. “Never really thought about...us like that.” he said. “But I am now and...I’m okay with it.”

He closed his eyes and laid back down, frowning when he couldn’t feel Dean doing the same. “Dean?” he called, opening his eyes. “You okay?”

It took Dean a moment to reply. “Yeah.” he said hollowly. He slowly laid back down on the bed, turning onto his side so that his back was to Sam. “Fine.”

Their heart was beating erratically, worse than five minutes ago when they were both jerking each other off. Their chest felt tight, almost like they couldn’t get enough air in. His stomach was twisted and the urge to throw up was unmistakable. 

“Dean?” His voice was quiet, soft. He reached out to touch his brothers back, feeling just how hard he flinched when he pulled away. 

“Don’t.” Dean said. “Just...sleep. Go to sleep.”

_ “I can’t if you can’t.” _ he wanted to say. But whatever it was, Dean needed this out, needed this much privacy. 

It was the least he could do. 

So, he turned onto his own side, facing away from Dean, and closed his eyes. 

Neither of them slept that night.

* * *

Driving back to the bunker was a quiet affair. Sam had offered to look at his brother's bandages but Dean just silently went to the bathroom and took care of it himself, he could feel the bandages pull at his skin and the slight sting as Dean cleaned it out and rebandaged. 

Neither of them spoke after that, grabbing a quick breakfast at the closest diner, Dean didn’t eat so therefore Sam couldn’t either, and got back to the road. Not even the radio was playing. Sam glanced down at his hands on his lap, the knuckles were completely white and throbbing slightly, he looked at Dean's hands; they were curled as tight as possible around the steering wheel.

Each time their heart beat in his chest it hurt, each breath they took hurt, everything was hurting and none of it made sense. 

“Dean?” he said, his voice low. Their heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Dean said curtly, staring straight ahead on the road. “We just gotta home and get rid of this bond already.”

Sam glanced down at his body, patting along his chest. “You really think my bodys healed enough?”

“No, we’re going to work nonstop until we find the healing spell and then we’re unbinding.” Dean told him. “This can’t go on.”

Sam turned so that he could look at him properly, forehead furrowing. “Dean, what’s going on?” he asked once more. “Talk to me.”

“What the hell do you think is going on?” Dean exploded at him. “I’m talking about what happened last night!”

Oh. That. Sam thought back to last night, the technical mutual handjobs, the slamming force of their orgasm, the literal bone deep relief that he felt spreading inside of Dean, the way it made their heart flutter slightly. 

And then, minutes later, the way Dean had withdrew from him, turning away from him completely. 

“I mean...it was kinda awkward, my dick can’t really work unless yours is in the game.” Sam said, glancing down at his lap. “But cause you came, I did too.”

“What the hell are you-that’s not what I’m talking about Sam!” Dean exclaimed, hitting the dashboard with a balled up fist. He jerked the car to the side of the road and parked them there, whirling in his seat to look at him. “I’m talking about the fact that you didn’t want to do it!”

Sam just stared at his brother for a moment. “Dean, I’m the one that made the first move.” he reminded him. “I touched you.”

“Because I wanted you to.” Dean said bitterly. “Because I wanted you to touch me and do that, it was all me and you just…” he shook his head, deflating in his seat. “Sam, I’ve wanted that for a very long time.” he finally admitted in a small voice. “And yeah I get it, it's sick, and it's wrong. I know. Just...and last night...I should’ve stopped you. I should’ve done the right thing.”

“Dean, I’m still the one that did it first.” Sam repeated, feeling as if he was about to throw up when a thought occurred to him. “You said you’ve wanted it for a long time. How long?”

Dean looked pained at the question. “Sam,:

“How long Dean?”

He could feel Dean swallow. “I don’t know.” he whispered. “For as long as I can remember.” he closed his eyes and Sam could feel something curl in his stomach, shame and guilt. “But it's like you said Sammy, you didn’t want it until last night.” he gave a humorless laugh, devoid of any sort of emotion. “So that means that it's all me, I’m the one making you feel like this. I’m the one that’s-”

Whatever else Dean was going to say, all the self hatred that Sam could feel coursing through him, he had enough. He leaned over the rest of the way and kissed him to shut him up. It felt the same as last night, like he was being touched through something else; like a blanket covering or even through cellophane. Either way he pressed closer, arms coming up to wrap around his brother as they kissed. 

Their heart was beating rapidly to the point of pain and for a moment, Dean relaxed into the kiss before he wretched himself away, eyes wide. Sam watched him, feeling the way that he could barely breathe. 

“What the hell...why’d you…” Dean tried to talk, tried to get out. 

“You definitely didn’t want me to kiss you then, but I wanted to.” Sam said simply, rubbing the back of his neck. “Dean, when I said that I never thought about this,” he gestured between them. “Before last night...it didn’t mean that you were influencing me or whatever the hell you think it is.” he reached out to take Dean's hand, sliding his fingers over it, feeling the echoing of the sensation on his own hand. “What I meant was...I never thought about it, because it made too much sense.”

He watched how his fingers curled around Deans, they settled there like a lock and key. “I never thought about this, because I never thought I’d have to. Because you’re always there and with me and just...it became a lot more evident. It just became another step that I didn’t realize that I wanted to take. I mean,” he laughed softly. “The way we live, the way we’ve always lived, together. In each other's pockets. Never really liking anyone else that was in our lives no matter who they were. It's all there man, it's all you and me. Together.``

“Sam,” Dean whispered, clutching at his brother's hand. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, this isn’t you, it's me.”

“If you really think that, then let's get back to the bunker and get rid of this bond.” Sam said simply. “Get rid of it right now, healing spell be damned.”

Dean had been shaking his head before Sam had even finished. “No, you’re not strong enough to be on your own yet.”

“So our option is either get rid of the bond so I can prove to you that this is my choice.” Sam told him. “Or you can just believe me.”

“I can’t Sammy.” he whispered. “I just...I feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”

“You’re not.” Sam informed him firmly. “So what are you going to do? Not touch me at all? We’re connected Dean, I can feel you.” he placed his hand over his heart, feeling just how it was beating erratically. “This is killing you.”

Dean closed his eyes, shaking his head and letting them snap open when Sam leaned in to kiss him again, pulling away. “Sam stop.”

“No.” Sam told him, trying to lean in again. “You still don’t want me to kiss you right now, it's making your stomach turn because of everything, but I want to kiss you.”

Dean wretched free and grabbed at Sam, gripping his wrists firmly and pushing him back into the passenger seat. “Stop.” he instructed. 

Sam glowered at him but stayed in his seat. “I want this.” he repeated, settling back and nodding at the road ahead of them. “So we’re going to get back and we’re getting rid of this bond so I can actually show you how much I want this because dude,” he glanced meaningfully at Dean's lap. “Your refractory time is horrible.”

Dean just stared at Sam in horror and slightly affronted. “My refractory time is perfect,” he protested.

Sam snorted. “Yeah sure, when we get rid of this bond, I’ll show you a real refractory period.”

Dean stared at him and started the car again, guiding them back onto the road. “You don’t know what you’re asking.” he told him. 

“Guess we’ll find out when we get back.”

* * *

Turns out, he was right in the middle of being healed enough and not healed enough. His body was strong enough to house his soul again but he was also in no shape whatsoever to be moving around or doing anything. The pain came fast and hard, and the loss of actually being bonded to his brother made him almost feel like a limb was missing. 

Mostly, he slept. He slept in his bed, waking up to stumble to the bathroom, on his own time thank you very much, and back to bed. Somewhere it between Dean would either feed him or have an iv pressed into his arm. 

It took at least a week and a half of that before Sam felt strong enough to walk to the kitchen, he had to immediately sit in the chair but it was something. He watched his brother pitter patter around the kitchen, making food and coffee and whatever else he could, avoiding both Sam and the topic on both of their minds.

“Dean,” Sam said, watching his brother tense up. He was flinching on the inside, he recognized it now. Slowly Dean looked up at him and without saying a word, Sam lifted the book off of the table and let it fall to the ground. “Mind getting that for me?”

He could hear Dean let out a frustrated breath but his brother complied, walking over and bending down to pick up the book. While he was still kneeling Sam reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, on instinct Dean looked up at him. 

And Sam leaned in to kiss him once more. 

It felt better, a thousand times better than the last one. This one he could actually feel, could feel how soft they were, how chapped they were. Could taste his brother, something he didn’t even realize he knew how to explain, clear as anything. His brother's skin was warm under his hand and everything was alright and alive in sensations. 

When he couldn’t breathe anymore Sam pulled away, just staring down at Dean who looked back up at him stunned. 

“Still want to kiss you,” he said simply. “Believe me now?”

He could see Dean chewing on his lip as he slowly stood up, not looking away. “You sure?” he whispered. 

Sam nodded, tilting his head to look at him. “It's all me now.” he told him. “And I still want to.”

A mixture of emotions rapidly flashed over Dean's face, too fast for him to even be able to read them, but it didn’t matter. Because Dean leaned down and kissed him, kissed him desperately, furiously, gripping at him tightly and yet gentle enough that he didn’t hurt him. 

It felt like finally coming home.

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Supernatural.
> 
> 1/365
> 
> I do take requests so if you have request you can send them to me.
> 
> Here we go again.
> 
> This was my submission to the Xmas exchange.
> 
> I am so tired but I need to do a shoutout to KassandraScarlett for being the literal best friend who listened to my ramblings and pushed me to write for this fic. Without you, I wouldn't have had this.


End file.
